Countdown to Tragedy
by Kansi-a-lari
Summary: Her hospital bed called out to him in a voice he couldn't ignore. Did she need him, or did he need her? [Oneshot] [HitsuHina]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. I do own a bottle of bleach, but not the show. I do not own the characters, but I do own this plot and the poem and the writings. :)

It's taken me forever to write this because my computer was infected with viruses and it was freezing every five minutes. It pretty much sucked.

I wrote most of this while listening to Brand New on shuffle. Most of their songs really fit the mood so kudos to them, because I love them 3

Anyway, the bold means it's the poem and the rest is the story. R&R and tell me what you think of it.

* * *

-Countdown to Tragedy-

**Tick**

…

**Tock**

…

**Now begins the clock**

**Every second matters,**

**Each sensation counts**

**Even if they only ever amount**

**To the building of this tension, **

**The beginning of decay**

**It's conventional in the very worst way.**

The sun was setting on the spires and peeks of the Soul Society, painting the sky with shades of purple and blue that were reflected by the white washed walls of the buildings. The halls were full of people going back and forth, some rejoicing over Rukia's saved life, some mourning for those that were lost and the countless other reasons of sorrow. Where one white head walked the corridors the crowds hastily parted. He stumbled ever so slightly and everyone who looked in his eyes could tell he was drunk. Very drunk. When he went by they held themselves against the walls and kept quiet. They knew where he was going, and if they got in his way he would lash out. None of them wanted to face the drunken anger of the short captain of the 10th squad.

His feet were heavy as they padded on the wooden floors, and his icy eyes didn't focus on anything around him. He ignored the surrounding faces, the twilight sky, and the tickling inclination that someone was coming after him. His hands swung practically limp at his sides, occasionally rubbing against the soft material of his captain robes. For a second he thought he heard someone call his name, but he disregarded it as a side effect of too much sake.

In the back of his mind he knew where he was going, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. He was just drunk. No need for a reason. People get drunk all the time. He was just walking it off. Making sure he didn't do anything stupid. He wasn't going anywhere in particular…

As he trudged along he received countless looks of pity from the onlookers. They all went unnoticed, the faces blurred in his mind. One young soul reaper even bowed his head in respect as the shorter man passed. No one spoke to him, and no one dared touch him. A delicate butterfly that got to close quickly flitted away, sensing the tension in the air. He felt thoroughly numbed, as if the alcohol had done its job. The same thing happened every time, though. He couldn't prevent it, and he couldn't drink it away no matter how hard he tried.

He lurched to a halt when he got to the place he never wanted to go; the place he couldn't stay away from. Standing by the door frame, he tried to tell himself to walk away. He didn't look in the room but rather stood facing the dimly lit hall. Any second he expected to be chided by Unohana for coming here so late, but the only sound he heard were rasping breaths that cut him down to the core.

Turning to face the room, he rested his arm against the frame and leaned his head against it. He had no idea how long he stood there, eyes closed just listing to the shallow breathing and trying not to pass out. By the time he opened his eyes and forced himself to glance out the window the moon had risen over the horizon, shedding its pure light into the night.

Walking on unsteady legs he made his way into the dark room. He stopped when he reached the edge of the neat little bed. Looking down on that beautiful face bathed in moonlight, he couldn't help but fall to his knees. _I'm so drunk…_he thought to himself, all the while knowing that wasn't the reason he fell. The floor was hard against his knees but the thought didn't even cross his mind when he looked at her face. Kneeling there her face was level with his; his azure eyes reflected her image.

Her dark hair was out of its tidy bun, splayed about her shoulders and snaking across the white pillow. Memories rushed back as he stared at her ivory skin. Images that he had tried so very hard to forget. He reached out a trembling hand and placed it lightly on her cheek. She seemed so fragile…so delicate. A sleeping beauty. A one sided grin emerged on his face at the childish thought. She had always liked fairy tales.

"Captain Tōshirō?" he pulled his hand back and whipped around, startled to see Matsumoto leaning against the wall. "Here again?"

"I was on my way to bed," he said, forcing himself to sound sober.

"Right," it was obvious that she knew he was lying. Her long golden hair cascaded over her shoulder, and she ran a hand through it as an impulse. "You shouldn't come here so much. It doesn't help anything."

He scoffed at his lieutenant and crossed his arms defensively. "I told you, I was going to bed."

"Then why don't I escort you there?" she said, a tiny smile on her face. He couldn't refuse, because that would show how much he was worried about the injured girl. His pride wouldn't let him do that. Not tonight anyway. Not when he was this drunk.

Hitsugaya grunted and brushed past her, using every ounce of will to not fall over from the effort. She followed close behind, sensing his annoyance but not caring in the slightest. "I noticed Captain Retsu wasn't in the infirmary," she said cheerily, "I heard she had gone to the human world to speak with Urahara or something, but I had no idea she left so soon." He merely nodded his head, desperately wishing there was something he could do to make her go away.

Sooner than he anticipated they reached his room. "Good night, Shiro-chan," Rangiku said, using his old nickname. He didn't say a word as he entered his room and closed the door behind him. He had been planning to go back out when she left, but as soon as he sat down on his bed, he fell backwards unconscious. Maybe he had had too much to drink after all.

Rangiku stood by the door, letting her smile fade. She turned concerned eyes to his room and tried to think of anything she could do to ease his heartache, but it was fruitless thought as usual. It seemed like everything she tried to do for him was in vain.

**Ignoring the ticking of the time-bomb clock**

**Lose ourselves in this masquerade,**

**Can't allow it to stop**

**This naïve oblivious charade**

**Has drowned out every warning.**

**We dance our dance and follow the steps**

**The devastation outside forming—**

**Bury deep our gnawing regrets**

* * *

Yeah…he had drunk too much. Hitsugaya held a hand against his pounding head and slowly sat up on his bed. He almost stood up, but before he could gravity pulled him back down onto the sheets like a lover that couldn't get enough. Groaning, he rolled on his side and squeezed his eyes shut tight. He was about to call for Captain Retsu to ease his pain before he remembered Rangiku's words from the night before. Terrific. There'd be no help for the hung over today. 

While awaiting a reason to get out of bed, he let his mind slip back to last night. Hinamori had been hospitalized for so long yet still she did not wake up. Would she ever know how often he had visited her, and stared at her unchanging features? What did she think about while she was trapped in what he could only call a coma? He imagined her waking up, opening those deep eyes of hers for the first time in weeks to the sight his face above her.

The absurd thoughts made him snap back to reality and once again feel his pounding headache. When she woke up he wouldn't be there, and she wouldn't care. He stumbled to his private bathroom and turned on the tap to the coldest it could go. He splashed his face again and again in hopes of getting rid of that damned hang over.

Since Ichigo and his friends had left things had been fairly mellow in the Soul Society. Hitsugaya could almost count on not being called to do anything particular today besides the usual paperwork. Hopefully that would leave him the rest of the day to do whatever he wanted. He ran his hands through his soft white locks and began the walk to his office.

On the way to the headquarters of the tenth squad he silently observed other soul reapers, mostly lower seats, rushing to and fro with errands and other simple tasks. A few cast wary glances in his direction, wondering how hung over he must be. He had no idea how many people saw him drunk last night, and he really didn't want to know.

When he reached his office he immediately flopped down into his chair and pulled a stack of papers towards him. Before he could begin his work, he heard a faint snoring coming from the couch. Sighing, he said loudly, "Matsumoto? Wake _up._"

Instantly her head shot up, hair unkempt and eyes half open. "Morning Captain," she muttered, standing up on feeble legs.

"Why were you sleeping in here?" he asked absentmindedly, pulling a sheet of paper close to him.

"No reason," she mused, "I just didn't feel like being in my room." Hitsugaya made a small noise, feeling too lazy to reply. She rose her eyebrow at him though it went entirely ignored. After realizing that he wasn't paying attention to her she ventured a small question, "Are you okay?"

His hand froze in the middle of writing. Without lifting his head he rose his eyes to her slightly mussed face. "Excuse me?" his voice came out sharper than he had wanted it to.

Looking slightly flustered she placed an index finger on her chin. She opened her mouth but, after gaping for a few seconds, closed it again with an audible clack. She huffed and glared at him playfully.

"Are you drunk already?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"No, silly," she waved the question off, "I just woke up."

"Then what is it?" his annoyance was palpable in the air, but she had gotten so used to it that it ceased to phase her.

She walked around the couch to stand directly in front of his mahogany desk. "You've been drinking a lot lately," she was staring intently at the wall as if the color was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. "And coming from me, that's saying something," she smiled wryly. Everyone in the Soul Society knew of her appetite for alcohol.

"And you have a problem with that?" he snapped.

"Not really, to be honest."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Well, I just thought…"

"Stop wasting my time and tell me."

"You're not gonna like it."

"Then shut up and let me work."

"I think you should stop drinking before you visit Hinamori."

And there it was. The words hit him like a slap in the face. Finally lifting his head from the now meaningless papers in front of him, he turned his full attention to her. "What?" his voice was quite, reserved.

"Everyone's seen it," she spoke with the voice of a mother, "but no one wanted to say anything." Placing her palms on the smooth wood of the desk she stared into his eyes. "Let me ask you one thing." Her eyes were confident and unflinching, "What do you think Hinamori would do if she knew that the only way you could look at her is when you're shit-faced?"

"…"

Without waiting for a reply she turned and walked silently from the room. The door closing was the only noise her departure had made. Hitsugaya sat silently staring at the spot she had been standing in only seconds ago, his mind falling into the thoughts he had tried to suppress.

What would Hinamori say? _"Drinking that much is bad for your liver," _her matter-of-fact tone echoed in his mind. Why would she even care? It's not as if she had ever given him a second thought; not as long as Aizen was there anyway. She was nothing more than a childhood friend. That's all she would ever be.

_Okay, _he admitted to himself, _maybe just I'm just a little over protective of her._ He had made that completely obvious to everyone but himself when he told Aizen he would kill him if Hinamori spilt a drop of blood.

Either way, it's not like it mattered.

Too much had happened; too much blood had been spilled. Maybe things could go back to normal, but that's as far as they would ever go.

Hinamori wouldn't care if he drank a lot…though he told himself that Matsumoto's words burrowed deep into his heart with the promise that they wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Ignoring the stack of papers he left the room as fast as he could, wishing he could forget his doubts that easily.

* * *

The day had gone faster than he could have anticipated it. The sun had already fallen and the sky was a calm teal. Hands stuffed in his pockets Hitsugaya ambled through the corridors, not entirely sure what he was looking for. He had spent the day sitting outside and ignoring his work. He didn't want to admit that Matsumoto had gotten to him, but she had nonetheless. 

Something visceral in his mind told him to listen to her, but logic screamed to ignore her. Still, during the course of the day his desire to see Momo had grown from a small seed into a plant that had wrapped it's tendrils around his heart.

Finally giving up he followed his feet to the infirmary. He didn't let himself hesitate like every other time he had come here. He strode briskly into the room, blocking out the scent of the chemicals in the room, the view of the darkening sky, and the rasping breathing. He walked with his head up, not looking down for a second. If he could just ignore the bed…just a few more seconds.

As if he was in a race he hurried around the bed to a stool that had been strategically placed so whoever sat on it could look directly upon the occupant of the bed. He lifted himself onto the stool and placed his feet on the bottom rungs. Taking a deep breath he bent forward and rested his elbows on his legs. He summoned all his courage forced himself to embrace what he had avoided for so long.

Sitting on the hard wooden stool Hitsugaya gazed down at Hinamori's lovely face. Dark hair stuck out in sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. Something about her seemed to glow with a calm inner radiance that he had never been able to see in anyone else. It was as if no matter what she went through or how blood stained she became, she was still so pure and innocent.

_Blood stained…_

He couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened to her. He hadn't been able to protect her from Aizen's lies, and he had been too late to protect her from his blade. He often wondered just what had transpired between them before he stabbed her. He could see her running to him, throwing her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest…His imagination forced him to see her look at him with that emotion she would never show him. It hurt to think about Aizen would stabbing her, and that naïve devotion disappearing in a tide of warm blood.

At night he often saw her face, outlined in blood in his mind. She would be lying at his feet, her delicate body so broken and defiled. Shaking the picture from his mind, he held his hands up against his eyes. Why had he let Matsumoto convince him to do this? She had barely said anything, yet he was here. Throughout every visit he had made over the past weeks, this was the first time he had come completely sober.

She looked so peaceful, but there was a certain way her forehead twitched everyone once in a while that told him differently. Could she be having a nightmare? Do people in comas have nightmares? Then again, Retsu had never actually said she was in a coma. Maybe she was just a sleep. _A sleeping beauty…_

Somehow that thought kept creeping back into his mind. He sighed rather loudly and ran his hand through his hair. What if Hinamori had been trapped in a nightmare all this time and couldn't find her way out?

"_She's waiting to hear the voice of someone who needs her…" _ The words flew back to him as he stared at her, tucked in so well in the hospital bed. The only contradiction he could think of was that she didn't need him. She had never needed him. Aizen had been the only one she ever needed. Even though he was long gone, Hitsugaya doubted she would be able to let him go.

A prick of envy began to grow inside of him. She had always looked up to Aizen; admired him and…loved him? Had she loved him? He had no way of knowing, but he could only hope that she hadn't. A part of that was him wishing she hadn't been hurt so much, but finally he had wanted to be the one who she felt that way towards.

He crossed his arms in front of him feeling restless. What a stupid train of thought. It was all worthless when it came down to it. His feelings to her didn't matter anymore than her devotion to that traitor.

Still…he kept careful notice of the slight twitches on her forehead, and the only thing he heard were her short rasping breaths. If she _was_ having a nightmare he might as well try to help.

Reaching down to her face he gently brushed a stray strand of hair off her face. He kept his hand on her cheek, feeling the subtle movements of her face. His mind wandered while he sat there. He thought about their childhood, their time in the academy, and as painful as it was, he thought about Aizen. He cringed as he thought of how deep Hinamori had been dragged into the tangled mess of his lies and her innocence.

Maybe it was his memories, or maybe it was the way the moonlight hit her face, but at that moment the only thing he wanted to do was believe that was a sleeping beauty. That she needed him to wake up. That maybe she just needed him.

Gently he pulled down the blankets around her waist, revealing her slim figure wrapped in a hospital gown. He slid a hand under her back and lifted her up closer to him. He had missed her so much; missed her smile, her laugh, that way she always looked at him when she was annoyed. It felt so good just to be able to hold her and smell the scent of peach blossoms that always seemed to linger by her.

She felt like a flower in his arms, lying dormant over the winter. Something intangible inside him drew him forward to her face. He wasn't sure what he was doing, his face inches away from hers, but there was a way her fragrant wrapped itself around him that made him feel that it was right. He slowed his breathing and attempted to do the same to his heart. It was beating so loudly he was sure it would wake her up.

Painstakingly deliberate, he brought his lips up to hers. He hesitated for the briefest second but couldn't restrain himself from placing them on her velvety lips. Closing his eyes, he willed with all his might that she would wake up. He imagined his need passing through his lips, his frantic heart awakening hers. In the back of his mind he couldn't forget Aizen. Wrapping his arms fully around her body, he tried to protect her from the past that had hurt her so much.

As if something in her dreams had connected to the thoughts in his mind, her muscles began to tighten. Her skin began to tremble softly under his touch. Pulling his head away from her, his hopes soared. He must have woken her up. His grin nearly lit the room with its brilliance. Intently watching her eyes he waited for them to open to see him.

Her breathing came sharper, forcing her head to bob with the quick movements. He pressed a hand against her cheek and could feel the beads of sweat that began to form there. Something was wrong. She wasn't waking up. Her body began to shake violently, and her hands shot up to clutch at anything. They found his robes and hooked on, finding an anchor in the nightmares.

"Hinamori?" he whispered in shock, "Hinamori?" What was wrong with her? Was this just a nightmare she was having?

A tiny squeak forced its way through her lips and pounding hard in his head. His arms gripped her tightly, refusing to let ho. "H…" he could barely hear the noise that came from her sealed lips, "H…" For a fleeting instant he thought she was trying to say his name. "Help…"

His eyes filled with concern, "I'm here." The words gently caressed her face, "I'm here."

She buried her face into his robes, continuing to shake. "Help me…" the plea was so quiet, but Hitsugaya's world revolved around it. His arms encompassed her, and there was a place in his mind where he knew this was right.

"I'm he—"

"Aizen…" The blood in his veins froze. "Help me, Aizen."

…**Tick**

…**Tock**

…

_**Bam!**_** Goes the clock**

**Crimson blood paints the walls**

**My smiling mask slips and falls**

**To watch the sword of Reality**

**Slice through the one who meant so much to me**

**In silence I watch you collapse**

**Into a scarlet pool of your own pain**

**Leaving only me to blame**

**For your undeserved suffering**

His eyes stared into nothing as the shock set in. Without warning he dropped her onto the bed. Stepping away from the bed he knocked over the now forgotten stool. His mind whirred in confusion and anger that he could not control. How could she do that? After all he did, she still begs for his help. Would she never notice him?

_That stupid…_fury bubbled up in his heart, filling him with a rage that he had nothing to smash against. Breath shook his body, fingers trembling, mind racing. Why was she so stupid? All reason fled from him in terror of the red hot anger that was thriving in every cell.

"Ahhh!" he yelled, ceasing to care if she woke up or not. His hands were clenched into such tight fists that he could feel his fingernails digging into his skin. Frozen eyes moved to look at hyperventilating figure on the bed. "You…" his brain seemed to be refusing to work correctly.

He lunged to the bed and landed squarely on top of her. Legs straddling her torso, hands on either side of her head, he tried to quell the fire in his heart even though a corner of him knew that nothing could stop him now. "Why?!?" he screamed to her comatose face, "You dumb-ass!" He gripped her shoulders in his vice-like hands to shake her up and down.

She didn't wake up no matter how hard he hit her back into the bed. His voice shook with unrestrained emotions, "How could you dream about _him_?" His strong arms pushed her hard into the soft mattress. "_I _tried to protect you. AND YOU BEG FOR _HIM._" The words flew out of his mouth like hidden venom that he had never known before. "You damn…" trailing off he searched for a word to describe what she was. _Angel, demon, sleeping beauty, fucking useless bitch…_

"Why are you so stupid?" the tirade wouldn't stop, "He stabbed you, in case you forgot. You and your fucking blind devotion. What the hell is wrong with you?!?" His rage was crashing through the pores of his face, bearing into her trembling figure. He wanted to hurt her, to make her feel what he felt. "The first time I come sober, and _this_ is what you do. You ungrateful…" it didn't matter that she couldn't hear him, it didn't matter that she could hardly breathe.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like letting go. His mind told him to leave her here and never visit this damned hospital ever again. She could suffer on her own; she didn't have to drag him down with her.

With no grace at all he vaulted himself towards the door, away from the bed, away from her, away from this pain. If she was going to do that then she deserved to suffer. She needed to learn to see past the lies and illusions she had lived in so long. His footsteps echoed loudly as he raced to the door. Hand on the doorknob, heart curling back up his sleeve, he willed himself to stop.

Glancing over his shoulder for one last look at Hinamori's quivering body, he prepared himself to say goodbye to all of his naïve emotions towards her. While he was turning the doorknob, ready to escape, a noise sliced through all of his defenses with the gentle intensity of a child.

"Shiro…chan…"

His heart stopped beating, and for the second time that night his mind stopped working.

**Because I need you to need me**

**To find me in this tragedy**

**Break through the eloquent lies**

**I'm dying by your side.**

**Still you call for the one**

**Who only wanted you to bleed.**

**Why can't you see?**

**I'm waiting for you to notice me**

He pivoted silently, facing her once again. He knew, in essence, he was shooting himself in his head, but he couldn't help it. He walked to her, unable to abandon her call. Who was he trying to kid? He couldn't let her go. It wasn't her fault everything was this messed up.

Reaching the bed, he resigned himself to his quiet pain and climbed onto the mattress beside her quaking form. Gently he wiggled his feet beneath the blanket and pulled it up to cover the two of them. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned her head against his chest. His solid muscles supported her shuddering ones, and before long she was once again clutching at the fabrics of his chest.

"Aizen…" came a strangled whisper.

Hitsugaya closed his eyes and buried the pain as far down as he could. Holding her convoluting body as tightly as he could he promised himself he would get revenge on the one who tortured her this much. The one who could make her love him even after running a sword through her delicate body.

It would be okay. She would wake up from her nightmare eventually, and she would never remember this night. She would never remember his anger towards her innocent devotion, and the jealousy that she would never show him that.

Bathed in a soft moonlight, he held her until her breathing returned to normal. Letting a quiet sigh dance past her lips, she fell limp in his arms. He inhaled the scent of peach blossoms in her hair that was now drenched in a cold sweat. Using the corner of his robe he wiped off her forehead, all the while overcome with a pain that was as pure as her loyalty to the one she loved.

Laying her back down, and tucking her in tenderly he tiptoed to the door. He wasn't sure if it had been worth it—staying with her even though she didn't need him. If someone else looked in the only evidence that anything had happened was the knocked down stool. But that was nothing. Hinamori looked as perfect as ever. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the room that was locked in heartache and memories.

As Hitsugaya closed the door behind him, he could feel something inside of him soundlessly asphyxiate and wilt.

**The countdown is long since done**

**Yet neither of us can move on**

**Your apathy is killing me**

**But, you should know**

**I'd rather die by your hand**

**Then ever let you go**


End file.
